Being an individual afflicted with a web of physical issues (degenerative arthritis, fibromyalgia and Klinefelter's Syndrome) in combination with two psychological ones (Asperger's Syndrome and Schizotypal Personality Disorder), my most constant companion is pain! Nary a day goes by when some part of the 'ol body isn't a tad bit under the weather.
I do not state this because I want your sympathy. Each human must deal with their own foibles and frailties. Mine are only worse than yours because they are mine. My pain is the only one can I feel within this thing I call the self. I can sometimes experience yours vicariously -- though certainly not as often nor as well as the average person -- but I can't know your pain as well as I do mine.
Fibromyalgia is characterised by flare-ups and periods of pseudo-remission. During the flare-ups, it's hard for me to visualize what it's like when I don't feel this crappy. During the periods between flare-ups, I sometimes forget how utterly miserable I feel during one. Of course, right now I'm in the middle of nasty flare-up. My routine for the past week has been to sleep, write a little on this blog, read a few of your entries, sleep, read a book, sleep, eat and sleep. Though sleep is mentioned quite frequently, it's certainly NOT a restful sleep.
When I was a believer in the faith, I often asked God why this particular cup had been chosen for me. Like most anyone else, I would prefer to lead an active life and be relatively pain free. God always seemed to be taking care of more important business as he never responded to my pleas for help or understanding.
Of course, I now know that God wasn't ignoring me; he simply doesn't exist. There is no being that inflicted me with my infirmities. There is no being -- other than myself, I suppose -- who can rescue me. I am who and what I am because of a multitude of variables in the cosmic stream of cause and effect.
These days I don't question why my body seems to be betray me over and over again. I realize there is a reason, but it's far too complicated for my limited human brain to comprehend. While this realization doesn't lessen the physical or psychological pain, my inner most consciousness is at peace. It's not wracked by guilt and it doesn't ask "Why me?"
I am who I am and I've learned to accept it. It's not always milk and cookies, but whose life is?
I do not state this because I want your sympathy. Each human must deal with their own foibles and frailties. Mine are only worse than yours because they are mine. My pain is the only one can I feel within this thing I call the self. I can sometimes experience yours vicariously -- though certainly not as often nor as well as the average person -- but I can't know your pain as well as I do mine.
Fibromyalgia is characterised by flare-ups and periods of pseudo-remission. During the flare-ups, it's hard for me to visualize what it's like when I don't feel this crappy. During the periods between flare-ups, I sometimes forget how utterly miserable I feel during one. Of course, right now I'm in the middle of nasty flare-up. My routine for the past week has been to sleep, write a little on this blog, read a few of your entries, sleep, read a book, sleep, eat and sleep. Though sleep is mentioned quite frequently, it's certainly NOT a restful sleep.
When I was a believer in the faith, I often asked God why this particular cup had been chosen for me. Like most anyone else, I would prefer to lead an active life and be relatively pain free. God always seemed to be taking care of more important business as he never responded to my pleas for help or understanding.
Of course, I now know that God wasn't ignoring me; he simply doesn't exist. There is no being that inflicted me with my infirmities. There is no being -- other than myself, I suppose -- who can rescue me. I am who and what I am because of a multitude of variables in the cosmic stream of cause and effect.
These days I don't question why my body seems to be betray me over and over again. I realize there is a reason, but it's far too complicated for my limited human brain to comprehend. While this realization doesn't lessen the physical or psychological pain, my inner most consciousness is at peace. It's not wracked by guilt and it doesn't ask "Why me?"
I am who I am and I've learned to accept it. It's not always milk and cookies, but whose life is?
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